


a little bit closer

by platonics



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Ambiguous Illness, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Iruma Miu's Dirty Mouth, LGBTQ Themes, Late Night Conversations, Makeup, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonics/pseuds/platonics
Summary: It worked somehow, the three of them, defending each other when no one else would. Himiko could think of worse people to have as friends.





	a little bit closer

**Author's Note:**

> while everything i write is gay bc i'm a big lesbian, a more explicitly pride/lgbt themed fic for pride month :3c
> 
> slightly experimental style-wise

The convenience store’s flickering lights and scuffed up linoleum floor didn’t exactly scream ‘desirable location,’ but it was better than being at home. It was away from her father, for one thing, and Himiko liked listening to the people passing by. They were happy, mostly, and she wondered how they did it. Maybe it would rub off on her eventually, wandering between the pre-packaged onigiri and bottled coffee. 

Not many customers came by at this hour, and Iruma was working, the only employee present at the moment, so Himiko could loiter here as long as she wished, soaking in the night. Iruma, in some ways, was much like the store itself. Not exactly desirable, but oddly comfortable all the same. There weren’t many people who were out at school, and of those who were, most of them were male, so Iruma was unavoidable. A natural consequence of not wanting to be around straight girls all the time. Besides, she was smart, and surprisingly funny sometimes, so it wasn’t all bad. There were worse people to have as friends.

“Yo, titless, I didn’t see you come in,” Iruma called from behind the counter, snapping the gum in her mouth. “Wanted to bask in the presence of yours truly, huh? Suppose I can’t blame you. C’mere though. I got something for you.”

Having long since resigned herself to Iruma’s array of insulting nicknames, Himiko didn’t even bother to protest, just giving her a curious look and approaching.

“You got something for me? What?”

Rather than answering verbally, Iruma just threw something at her. Unable to even tell what it was, Himiko fumbled to catch it and failed. Only when she leaned down to pick it up from the floor did she see that it was actually two small items. A pin and what looked to be a handmade yarn bracelet, both of them in pink, purple, and blue. Scooping them up, she smiled, looking over to Iruma. She hadn’t dared go to any of the city’s pride festivities that day herself, worried her father might find out.

“Oh, quit looking at me like that,” Iruma muttered, fiddling with a lock of messy blonde hair and looking away. “I...I just got them for myself is all, and they came in packs of two, so...I didn’t need both.” A quick look did prove that Iruma had the same bracelet on her wrist and the pin on her collar, but Himiko wasn’t quite sure she believed the excuse.

“Okay, sure. Thanks, Iruma.” Carefully, Himiko tied the bracelet around her wrist, stashing the pin in her pocket for now. “You went then?”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t disappoint the masses by not showing up. Everyone wants a look at my gorgeous body.” Preening, Iruma glanced down to check her phone. Himiko hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter, gazing at the stars through the smudged glass of the shop’s front windows.

Without entirely meaning to, she started to zone out, just looking at the blurry sky and thinking of nothing in particular. A customer came in, the bell on the door clinking softly, but Himiko didn’t bother to get off the counter or watch him wander the store. This kind of peace in her head was rare, precious.

“Real dopey fuckin’ look you’ve got on your face there, Yumeno,” Iruma drawled, making no effort to lower her voice so the store’s solitary customer wouldn’t overhear her so easily. “Thinking about how bad you want Shinguuji’s dick? I bet you’re—”

Pure horror snapping her out of her daze, Himiko slapped a hand over Iruma’s mouth, blushing furiously. Iruma just licked her palm, smirking triumphantly when she pulled away just as quickly.

“You can’t just say that,” Himiko whisper-yelled. “There’s someone here.” The aforementioned someone, an elderly man, was approaching the counter with his purchases now, making a concerted effort to avoid eye contact with either of them. Still mortified, Himiko hopped down from the counter and slunk down the freezer aisle. She didn’t dare come back to the front of the store until after she was sure he’d left.

“You never said I was wrong though,” Iruma said in a singsong voice, carrying on their conversation as though it hadn’t been interrupted at all. 

“Well, you were. I wasn’t thinking about that at all...when you said it.”

“Ha! And the truth comes out!”

Ah, Shinguuji...Iruma knew them too, like she seemed to know everyone. She’d stolen one of their folklore books once, Iruma had, and hidden it in Himiko’s locker when she wasn’t looking. Later, Himiko had caught Shinguuji trying to pick the lock to get it back, figured out Iruma’s involvement, and that was that. They’d been friends ever since, united by the chaos that was interacting with Iruma Miu. 

It worked somehow, the three of them. Iruma fought the guys who gave Shinguuji a hard time, mocking the ones who refused to hit a girl, and wearing bruises from the others with pride. Girls who laughed at Himiko found cuts in their skirts or tacks on their chairs. Iruma was that sort of person. Shinguuji answered every panicked phone call, no matter what time of night. They’d climbed in Himiko’s window in the middle of the night once, just so she’d feel safe enough to fall asleep. Himiko cast every spell for protection and good luck she knew, hoping that some worked. She spent whatever time she could with each of them, not able to offer much more than quiet company, but wanting to give that at least.

Once again, the bell at the door rang, indicating that someone had entered the store.

“Where have you been?” Himiko asked immediately, getting down from the counter again. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Traveling,” Shinguuji said, rolling their eyes and tugging frustratedly at the plastic bracelet on their wrist. “I only just got back. Do you have any scissors back there, Iruma?” They hoped to be able to travel for real someday, but for now, it was merely a sarcastic euphemism for the hospital.

“Uh...” Iruma dragged out the word as she dug through a couple of drawers, finally yanking out a pair of scissors and holding them out towards Shinguuji. “Yeah, here. Should’ve told us. Yumeno and I would’ve been way better company than your bitch of a sister.”

“I didn’t wish to worry you. Besides, I had plenty of reading material. Better than serving detention for my heinous crime of wearing a skirt to school.” With a quick snip, the hospital bracelet was cut off. As it fell to the floor, Himiko’s gaze lingered on their pale, scarred arms, bare for once. Apparently not even Shinguuji was willing to wear long sleeves today, unseasonably warm even for June. That or they were simply continuing last week’s rebellious streak. Either way, she approved. It was an odd thing to fixate on, she knew, but it was so rare for much of their skin to be exposed that she couldn’t help looking. A blue-purple bruise bloomed at the crook of their elbow, the telltale sign of a sloppy phlebotomist. 

“It’s our job to worry,” Himiko mumbled, yawning. “I could’ve done extra magic for you.”

They leaned down, scooping up the wristband from the floor, and Himiko blinked, forcing herself to look away. In one smooth movement, they threw it away and returned the scissors to Iruma, who immediately got something from her pocket. 

“Hey, Shitguuji, catch.”

Not batting an eye at the crude nickname, they did so easily, unlike Himiko’s own clumsy fumble from earlier. The same bi pin and bracelet she’d gotten. She smirked, suspicions confirmed. There was no way Iruma had ‘just happened’ to have extras. Just as quickly, Iruma threw another set at them. As the items flew through the air, Himiko spotted the colors of the nonbinary flag this time. 

“Oh,” Shinguuji said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Thank you.” They were fumbling in their attempt to tie the bracelets, Himiko noticed, hands not quite as deft as usual. She stepped closer to help, a shiver running down her spine when her fingers brushed against their bony wrist. 

“Came in packs of two, my ass,” she said to Iruma over her shoulder, needing to distract herself from the fact that she was close enough to smell their cologne. “I think you just wanted to get gifts for us.”

Iruma lobbed a plastic-wrapped cookie at her in response. Wincing when it hit her squarely in the head, Himiko picked it up from the floor.

“Mine now,” she decided, ripping the package open and taking a bite.

“You’d better be planning on paying for that, bitch.”

“Mm, no.”

While the two of them bickered, Shinguuji had slipped away, heading for the makeup aisle. Once she noticed, Himiko followed, still eating her stolen cookie. Iruma joined her a few seconds later, apparently deciding she didn’t care that she was technically working. Shinguuji let their hair out of the messy bun it had been tied up in, shaking it out and slipping the hair tie around their wrist instead. Then, eyeing the display in front of them, they plucked an eyeliner from the shelf, peeling off the plastic and glancing around for something to use as a mirror. Himiko chuckled, pulling out her phone and opening the camera, holding it up for them.

“Ah, thank you, Yumeno,” they said, nudging her hand up a little higher before starting to do their makeup.

“Bitch,” Iruma protested for the second time in as many minutes, glaring at Shinguuji. “Both of you jackasses need to cough up some fucking money.”

Heaving a put-upon sigh and capping the eyeliner momentarily, Shinguuji reached for their wallet, handing over 2500 yen before grabbing a lipstick and mascara too. 

“As much as it pains me to pay someone as unpleasant as you, this should cover my own items as well as Yumeno’s snack.”

Himiko smiled, resuming mirror duty a few moments later. The three of them chatted as Shinguuji did their makeup, and Himiko felt all of her worries and tension melt away. She hadn’t felt this calm in a long while. 

Until, of course, Shinguuji smudged their lipstick, swearing under their breath. Either forgetting about or not wanting to stain their mask, which they’d set aside momentarily, they instead chose to wipe away the red smear with the hem of their shirt. Iruma had gone to put their money in the register, and Himiko was frozen, powerless to say anything or even look away. All she could do was stare at the flat planes of their stomach and chest as they yanked their shirt partway up, trying to convince herself she wasn’t thinking anything at all.

They locked eyes, and an almost imperceptible blush spread across Shinguuji’s face.

A split second later, of course, the lipstick dilemma was handled, and she was left looking at nothing but soft black fabric. By the time Iruma returned, they were putting their mask back on, composed as ever.

Himiko swallowed roughly, squeezing the wadded up cookie wrapper in her hand. Iruma raised an eyebrow at her flustered expression, and Himiko’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Iruma never passed up an opportunity to say something suggestive.

“Unless you two need to go bang one out in the bathroom first, we can go somewhere else,” she said, jerking her head towards the door.

“Don’t you need to work?” Himiko asked, steadfastly not looking in Shinguuji’s direction.

“Fuck it. It’s been dead all evening. I’ll close early and my boss probably won’t even know.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Honestly, Himiko wasn’t sure how Iruma hadn’t been fired five times over already, so she was probably right about being able to get away with this.

“Do either of you have somewhere in mind?” Shinguuji asked, stifling a yawn. “My sister is home, so I’m afraid I can’t offer my house as an option.” Their stint in the hospital had been more tiring than they let on, Himiko was sure. 

“Not mine either,” Himiko replied immediately. As much as she’d like to have her friends over, it was rarely possible, unless her father wasn’t home.

“We could go to the park,” Iruma offered with a shrug, already starting to get the store ready to be closed up for the night. “And you can crash at my place after if you want, assuming you don’t mind dealing with Akamatsu’s drunk ass.”

So that’s what they did. The neighborhood ‘park’ wasn’t really a park so much as it was the playground of a local elementary school, bordering a wooded area. It was a reliable nighttime hangout spot, almost always abandoned after dark. Iruma complained about Akamatsu all the way there, and Himiko’s fingers kept brushing against Shinguuji’s, until they finally just grabbed her hand and held on.

Iruma was the first to lay down in the grass, sprawling out like a starfish. It was starting to get a little chilly now, Himiko noticed as she laid next to her, unlike the oppressive heat from earlier. She shivered and curled closer to Shinguuji, at her other side.

“If she’s such a pain, why are you dating her?” Himiko finally asked. If she didn’t interrupt, Iruma was liable to keep talking forever.

“W-well, it’s not like that...Not like you have any room to criticize my love life anyway.” It was too dark to tell, but Himiko was pretty sure she was pouting.

“To criticize your love life would require understanding it, a feat beyond most people’s abilities,” Shinguuji chimed in, voice dry. “Akamatsu-san seems uncomfortably similar to my sister, but if the arrangement suits you, I shan’t object.”

“Speaking of your sister,” Himiko said softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” they said. She could hear a slight hitch in their breath when she laid her head against their chest, but whether it was because they were upset, or simply because they’d been exerting themself too much while freshly out of the hospital, she wasn’t sure. “She was as miserable as usual, but didn’t spend much time at the hospital. It was my own fault for winding up there, naturally, because I don’t possess as much self-control as her. Because the physical condition of my lungs is, of course, solely controlled by my mental state.”

“It’s a shame Danganronpa didn’t accept her before she aged out. I would’ve liked to watch her get killed.”

Shinguuji snorted in amusement, and their hair tickled her neck when they nodded.

“I feel the same way sometimes.”

The faint, bluish glow of Iruma’s phone lit up the vicinity. She was texting someone, probably Akamatsu, and making a point of not looking over at Himiko and Shinguuji. Despite how eager she normally was to complain about anything and everything, she never mentioned feeling like a third wheel.

“You think you’re gonna spend the night at Iruma’s?” she asked, glancing up. The dim light gave their hair a slight blue-green tinge, like ink or seaweed. There was an old cigarette burn on their wrist from their sister, the nonbinary bracelet partially obscuring it, and Himiko wondered when so many tiny details of Shinguuji had started to feel familiar even in the dark.

“Probably,” they said. “You?”

“If you are.” She wondered if they noticed all of her details too, and if Iruma might have a point when she bluntly encouraged the two of them to just make it official already. “She’ll be busy with Akamatsu, and it’s kinda awkward to stay in her basement alone.”

“Then I will.” There was a small rip in the fabric of their jeans, just above their knee. She rested her hand there, because she could, fingertips brushing their skin. 

“Good.” Himiko yawned, closing her eyes. “You’re nice to sleep on.”

“Are you sure you should fall asleep here?” Shinguuji asked, laughing breathily. “I can’t carry you to Iruma’s.”

The next thing she knew, they were. When Himiko drifted back into consciousness, she was halfway to Iruma’s house from the park, Shinguuji giving her a piggyback ride. 

“Do you ever think it’s weird that the three of us only became friends because we’re gay?” she heard Iruma asking.

“It’s unsurprising,” Shinguuji said, and Himiko noticed in her half-asleep state that she could almost feel the vibration of their voice. “Members of minority groups banding together within the larger community is a well-observed phenomenon worldwide. In fact...”

“I’m glad we are,” Himiko interrupted. “It’s not surprising or whatever, but...it’s still special.”

“Yes. It is.”


End file.
